Oceanic Static
by SecretBox
Summary: Their hearts have and will always be connected; —•x♥ Riku x Kairi.


**A/N **

Set during the first KH. I haven't written a Kairiku in such a long time. ♥

This is a giftfic, for **Crimson Kaoru **btw. I hope you like it!

To everyone: Have a safe and happy holiday!

**Disclaimer: **I own zip, nada, nothing.

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Oceanic Static

_By: SecretBox_

There has and always will be a link between them that entwines their hearts together, keeps them connected no matter the distance, and runs so strongly that not even the pitch black, screaming darkness can sever it completely. As much as he hates to admit it, Riku feels it, always has, and it bothers him that this strong, incommodious sensation in his chest refuses to go away, and is not overcome by him when he grumbles and casts an icy aquamarine-eyed glance in its direction.

He likes to think that it's there because they were friends, are friends,_ best_ friends; there because he's known her for so, so very long. He remembers, recalls when he first laid eyes on her just like it was yesterday: the day she washed up on the glittering sandy banks of Destiny Islands and looked up at him with those wide, sea-beryl gem irises, a touch of distilled awe sparkling reliably and clear in those dark depths as the tides tangled tiny golden shells and foam like liquid pearls in her hair. She was always washing in and out of his deep psyche after that, innocent and sweet in all of her naivety, emerging from the nets of his dreams as the untouchable sea-princess who's beating heart belonged to the azure sky.

He also likes to think that when he slips her small hand into his much larger one, intertwining ivory fingertips (and heartstrings) that no one can hear him except for her in the eve of his fall from grace; especially when he brushes butterfly kisses against her forehead and murmurs empty promises of forever binding paopu fruit and rafts and ruby-red sunsets into the creamy shell of her pale ear.

But then Maleficent places her spindly, sick emerald fingers on his boyish shoulder, and digs deeper and deeper into his heart with that one cold, condescending and icy look. She whispers of intricately woven tales of sickeningly sweet cloying promises of pretty sea-princesses giving their hearts away to knights of twilight and loving them best, and he cringes away from her touch because she's the personification of darkness, his darkness.

"Isn't this what you always _wanted_?" the Sorceress' voice croons forebodingly sinister and dark by his ear like the sultry, inky curtain of the starless night. Riku knows that he is only kidding himself with this mask and fooling absolutely no one –- not even _himself_.

Deep down, Riku simply knows this connection is something much more.

It is strong and binding, a link that entwines their hearts together: again, not even the near pitch black, screaming darkness can sever it.

It is why, when he comes to and presses his body against hers in the swathing, all-consuming darkness after their world is destroyed and watches her empty, melancholy-violet gaze swivel up ever so slowly to meet his, he snarls angrily and swears to her that he'll protect her like _he_ couldn't, and rises in spite of himself, running away to protect her from a wound she's already received against his oldest and dearest so-called best friend.

It is why, he fakes indifference as he listens to the quiet, almost not-quite-there breathing in her chest when he is standing still and she is moving (if just for one moment); he tries to maintain a regal air even though this strand in his heart is cutting into him harder and harder, deeper and deeper, threatening to split his ruin of a heart in pieces.

It is why he can hardly hold back the urge to clutch his chest when he gazes at this girl that's so small and doll-like and fading and wasting away; he can hardly hold back the urge to clutch his chest, for this connection lasts through the pitch black, screaming darkness and if she's dying, shattering, heart-screaming-out, he is too.

The silver-haired boy scowls, glaring icily in the doll-girl's general direction without ever really meaning it, and comes to realize far too late that this connection won't ever go away.


End file.
